


My Discothèque, Juliet Teenage Dream (written by Alan)

by SAMC_Inc



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction
Genre: Chemistry AU, Eating Disorder, Heavy Petting, High School AU, M/M, Skateboarding AU, Ziall kiss, fight au, ziall blurb, ziall drabble, ziall fluff, ziall imagine, ziall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAMC_Inc/pseuds/SAMC_Inc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is completely unprepared for everything that happens in such a short amount of time.</p>
<p>Or better yet an uncontrollable turn of events that goes from a skateboard accident, to being pressed against lockers, with a bit of sulphuric acid and a much too serious conversation that leads him and Zayn into the same stratosphere</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Discothèque, Juliet Teenage Dream (written by Alan)

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written by me (Alan) for the purpose of writing something quick and easy (which then turned into long and meaningful and 11,000 words of nonsense)

It was definitely abnormal that the weather was resting at a balmy seventy degrees in the middle of January, but Niall had long since decided to enjoy the random bout of heat instead of forcing an almighty WTF in Mother Nature’s direction. With black sunglasses perched lightly on the bridge of his nose, the black denim of his skinny jeans absorbing every ounce of sunlight, and his textbooks stacked neatly beside him, Niall was finally able to indulge himself in an outdoor studying session for the first time in months. Granted the venture was null of his curly headed best friend-

(Partly because between October when it had become too cold for shared scourings of textbooks outdoors, and January, Harry had become preoccupied with other things. Other things like _Louis Tomlinson_ who was constantly using the wicked glint in his cerulean gaze and a quick run of his fingers up the inside of Harold’s knee to convince the younger into skipping class.)

Niall, though, was not about to let anything ruin the feeling of the rays soaking into his Snow-White-complected skin. He was chewing on the end of his pencil haphazardly, eyes scanning the math packet his teacher had just handed him in attempt to understand the work while trying to convince his stomach that the taste of eraser was all it needed for lunch. Both were failing miserably; the Pre Calculus looked like some sort of Arabic language he had no interest in learning, and his stomach was growling angrily. Only one of these problems was going to be fixed if Niall had anything to say about it, and so he rested his elbows against his knees and glared more harshly at the formulas dusting the page.

Through the quiet hum of Rihanna playing through the pathetic nubs of the blonde’s over used headphones, he could hear the approaching sound of wheels on pavement: skateboard wheels. Niall tilted his head up a little too excitedly, craning his neck to gaze around the trees blocking his vision in search of the source to the sound. If Harry were there, he would’ve been rolling his eyes in time with a huffed ‘you’re ridiculously obsessed with a skater that you’ve never even said a word to’-

(But then he’d be looking too because _no one_ , not even Harry who felt as if he had something to prove to the world, was going to deny that the stranger was cosmically attractive.)

Niall tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, praying silently that the other boy wouldn’t catch him staring. _Thank God for sunglasses_. The crunching sound of pavement under wheels grew louder, closer Niall hoped. Sure enough, a few seconds later the board creating the bumpy sound came rolling around the corner with its owner in tow. Niall sighed quietly, tilting his head just slightly as his eyes followed the silhouette of the skaters frame, pausing to gawk at the harsh jut of his jawline and the puffy pout of his lips. He’d cut his hair since Niall had seen him last, the sides shaved and the mess of ebony locks left on top flopped over to one side. The blonde swore to himself that if art was a person, it would be that skater, _his_ skater, all harsh edges and dark smudges. Niall looked away quickly as the kid began rolling up the stretch of walk closest to the him, turning back to his math sheet as if he could actually focus on it at a time like this. His eyes locked in on the italicized _7 over 6x plus 9ln_ , trying to the shake the question of how one could possibly describe eyes that were forever stuck somewhere between dried amber and fresh whiskey. So he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, convincing himself that none of it mattered because he was never going to say a word to the other anyway. It had almost worked too, Niall had almost escaped back into his own little world of _Turn away 'cause I need you more_ and the nonsense of questions 1-10 when there was a _thunk_ and a swear, and he was looking up just in time to see the one person he'd never assumed would fall off a skateboard tumbling on top of him.

“Shit,” the dark headed boy grumbled, he’d somehow managed to get his hands on either side of Niall’s body in order to keep his full body weight from landing on the younger, “I am so sorry.”

“Well hello to you too,” Niall chuckled, hoping that his cheeks weren’t half as red as they felt. Though somewhere in the depths of his subconscious-right behind a very vigorous chanting of _the most attractive anything ever is on top of you right now and he smells like expensive cologne_ -he was pretty sure the other boy wasn’t too terribly focused on Niall’s blush. And he was also pretty sure the kid was trying to get away, but he was either rather weak (which didn’t seem likely as the blonde could quite literally feel the pull of his muscles), or he wasn’t trying very hard. As Niall tried to fumble out the word _um_ at the second thought, he realized the zipper of his hoodie was just merely snagged in the cotton of the brown eyed boys t-shirt-

(And by brown Niall _definitely_ meant whiskey. Forget the whole amber thing all together because the kids eyes could only be called whiskey from then on. One part because of the color, and two parts because they were so close to Niall’s that the blonde was beginning to wonder if this was what being drunk felt like. Add in a dash of perfectly sloped nose and cheekbones resembling a statue, and the skater was a fatally mixed drink that needed to be off of him _right now_.)

“Jesus, I am really fucking sorry,” the other laughed, shifting his weight more towards one hand so that he could wedge the other between their chests to undo the connection. Niall let his head fall back against the ground as the dark headed boy rolled next to him. He had to remind himself that panting was neither polite nor appropriate, and would probably raise more questions than the heated blush that was _definitely_ dusted across his skin now. And then Niall was wondering if he should say something, because the silence was heavy and he could still smell the other too strongly. He must’ve decided to say something at some point, or his tongue was completely detached from his brain because it started moving sometime between him looking at the skater’s side profile, and the skater turning to face him.

“I’m Niall, by the way,” the blonde coughed out, making sure to offer a light grin at the end as to not come off in a weird way. Or as not weird as it gets after you’ve just had someone fall on top of you.

“Zayn,” the dark headed boy chirped, letting his hand fall against his sternum as he went back to looking at the sky, “sorry I fell on you.”

Niall had to bite back the _it was the highlight of my day_

“You’ve said that three times now, I think I’ve got it,” he joked, trying to keep the overwhelmingly fond smile to a minimum as Zayn crinkled up his nose to avoid a laugh. There were so many things the blonde wished he had the balls to say: “hey you skate by here, like, every day don’t you?” or “I find you very attractive and wouldn’t mind talking to you more”, but he instead ended up clearing his throat a few seconds later as the silence slowly became more awkward.

And there was really no way to make the situation less stiff, so Zayn did the next best thing. He made a swift move to stand up, gripping the head of his skateboard as he unfolded from the ground, holding it up next to him as he turned to face a still sprawled out Niall. He drug the toe of one of his converse across the pavement behind the other, palming the back of his neck nervously as he tried to find something _un_ stupid to say.

“It was, er, nice meeting you Niall,” Zayn mumbled, offering a smile that seemed both impatient and uncomfortable and said everything they were both feeling. Then he was bending down to scoop up the bag he’d previously had slung over his shoulder, and Niall for a fraction of a second found himself staring down the collar of Zayn’s shirt to find, not a bare chest, but what looked to be the perfectly inked flutter of feathers.

“Is that a tattoo?” he blurted out, immediately going to gnaw at the inside of his lip for sounding too interested. But then Zayn was tossing this overly cocky I-have-a-secret smirk over his shoulder, not once giving away a nod of his head, or even a shrug. There was nothing but a casual wave of his fingers, a good riddance and an _I guess you’ll never know_ before he was dropping the board to the pavement and taking off. Even as Zayn’s frame turned a corner out of Niall’s line of vision, the blonde found himself grinning stupidly because he could practically hear the disbelief in Harry’s voice as he wailed the “that did _not_ happen” when the older told him about all of this later. Then partly because Niall was completely done with anything that wasn’t Zayn, and partly because there was no way he was going to be able to understand his Calculus anytime soon, Niall packed up his things and started back towards the building. All the while he was forcing down thoughts of what it would be like to have Zayn on top of him in a very different set of circumstances, because there was no way that was ever going to happen.

**********

Niall had really hoped that somewhere between eighth grade and senior year of high school the people that enjoyed getting into fights for absolutely no reason would’ve outgrown the habit, but there he was, face inches away from Liam’s as the older boy held a vice-like grip against the front of his shirt. And Niall was trying not to shy away, because the moment he stopped acting tougher than he felt, Liam would not refrain from bashing in the side of his head.

“Hello Horan,” the brunette sneered, his nearby hooligans wearing matching smug expressions, “miss me much?”

“I didn’t miss your breath blowing into my face. What did you eat for lunch today, cat puke?”

Niall tried not to wince as Liam slammed him against the locker, harder this time.

“I’d sorta hoped that by now you would’ve actually _tried_ to learn how to fight back, but your just as helpless as usual,” Liam sighed, tightening his grip on Niall’s chest until the blonde was clawing down a high pitched squeak. His chin tilted up in defiance, blue eyes bared at Liam as if he could mind control his way out of this. Whether or not he walked away with a broken nose didn’t exactly matter at this point, what mattered was that he not give in to Liam’s demands. There was _no way_ Niall was going to be bullied into doing someone’s _homework_ , for God sakes they were in their last year of _high school_. So he continued to stare Liam down, hoping that either the brunettes resolve broke, a teacher walked by soon enough to break this up, or Niall would at least be allowed enough time to throw his hands up in front of his face to avoid too much damage.

“You’ve got thirty seconds Horan, and then I’m handing you over to Calum and Josh so they can make sure you hold still while _I_ make sure you end up whimpering.”

A crowd had started to form as it always did when these things began to happen, because everyone knew that Niall never let Liam have his way. For some reason, hoards of his class mates found watching him get beaten senseless an enjoyable pastime, and no one ever had the audacity to intervene. Somewhere from behind a group of people, the blonde caught a flash of angry green eyes and a familiar mop of curls, but before Harry was jumping into the situation, Niall was left sighing in relief as Louis held him back. While Harry had the height over Liam and might be able to gain the upper hand in the situation, the younger boy couldn’t even stomach the thought of squashing a spider. Liam would have him on the ground in a matter of seconds, and the blonde was reminded of yet another reason that he was so incredibly thankful for Louis.

“You might as well get this over with,” Niall spat, taking a moment in attempt to wriggle free, but Liam had him pinned, “we all know how this ends don’t we?”

And then Liam was grinning like Niall had said exactly what he’d hoped for. Before the blonde could even fully process how quickly everything was moving, Calum and Josh had either of his arms pinned against the lockers, Liam was standing in front of him cracking his knuckles, and Niall was wondering how someone could care so little about being suspended when he took the first hit. He hadn’t expected it to be in the face, but sure enough Liam’s practiced fist lodged neatly against Niall’s eye socket, creating a rattling in his head and a rather terrifying _smack_. His eyes watered up immediately, and he swore he wasn’t crying, but his vision went fuzzy around the edges and everything was smudged black are stars speckled the air. Liam was already getting ready for round two.

Niall squeezed his eyes shut because he’d learned a long time ago that it helped with the sting, and Liam was lunging for his next strike when another body dove into the mix. The sound of boots squeaking against the floor rang through the air, mixed in with a yelp from Liam, and a few gasps from onlookers. Niall managed to blink away enough of the inky blackness still crowding his vision, and through a haze of dizziness he managed to make out a lean figure pressing Liam’s back against the lockers and standing with their face an inch away from his. Niall felt like crying in relief, and even though every shred of dignity he’d held himself to had been squashed for the time being, he held it together enough to watch the scene unfolding before him.

“Never been good at staying out of trouble Li, such a bad habit.”

Whoever it was that had stepped in had the brunettes wrists pinned by his hips to the baby blue metal, grip visibly tightening as they spoke. Neither of them flinched, staring each other down as the crowd shifted uneasily. Whispers fluttered around like stirred up dust, refusing to settle until the disturbance had passed. The blonde caught hints of _why isn’t Liam fighting back_ and what sounded an awful lot like _why the hell did_ he _intervene_. It occurred to Niall then that the one who’d defended him didn’t look too terribly unfamiliar, in fact the untamable mess of raven hued locks was highly recognizable, and the lithe frame of the slightly taller boy was one Niall knew quite well.

And as if the universe could hear his disbelief, he could make out a mumbled _is Zayn really protecting this kid?_ Niall was asking himself the same question.

“ ‘fraid not Zee, the blondie and I have some unfinished business,” Liam sighed, trying to play this whole thing off as a casual predicament. As if there was anything simple about the bruise forming around Niall’s eye and the fact that Zayn’s shoulders were tensed in what could only be described as a predatory stance.

“Well I guess you have two choices then,” Zayn hissed, “I can let you, and you can walk away from all of this and never touch the kid again, or we can do this your way, and I’ll have your ass in the hospital before you can even muster a ‘wait’.”

And what was incredibly terrifying about the whole thing was that Zayn didn’t seem to be lying-

Niall swore Liam gulped.

Zayn took a step back, his muscles remaining rigid as he turned to glance over his shoulder. He only caught Niall’s eye for a second, long enough still for the blonde to notice how small the older’s pupils had become, but then he was shooting a matching glare towards Calum and Josh that had them lifting their hands away from Niall and up in defeat. Zayn watched as the two of them took a few unsure steps towards Liam, standing by his side as the trio began shifting uneasily. Niall briefly wondered how on earth the three of them could be afraid of one person, but he decided quickly that he didn’t want to find out. They clearly didn’t either as they began shuffling down the hall, but it wasn’t until they were a few yards away that Zayn’s posture finally began to relax. The crowd began murmuring again, the excitement over the new piece of gossip spreading quickly as they dispersed. And then it was only Niall, standing with his back still against the lockers as Zayn rolled his eyes.

“People are stupid,” he mumbled, shrugging as if three words was enough to sum up the entire situation, “c’mon kid let’s get you to the nurse.”

And Niall followed. Partly because he wasn’t entirely sure that Liam had disappeared for good and Zayn made him feel unbearably safe, and partly because he was 95% sure some part of his face was bleeding. He decided if anyone asked he would offer the latter reason, but in the moment he scooted a little closer to the dark headed boy as they traipsed down the empty hall. He didn’t protest as Zayn wrapped an arm around his waist, or as the older took his free hand to grip Niall’s limb and drape it over his shoulder. He just deeply hoped that the taller boy wouldn’t be able to feel the pick-up of his pulse.

They didn’t speak as Zayn lead him into the nurse, nor did they utter anything as she worriedly hovered around Niall. They didn’t say a word as she laid him down on the bed, and it wasn’t until she’d left the room to call his parents-

(Making sure first that he was asserting the correct amount of pressure to the icepack on his face, and when he wasn’t then making Zayn come over to hold the gel pack to his eye as she wandered out of the room.)

That he finally gathered the nerve to speak up. He did this, of course, while trying to ignore their close proximity and reminding himself the fact that Zayn was resting his forearm against Niall’s chest was not that big of a deal.

“Why are you doing this,” he managed, keeping his other eye closed because he wasn’t going to be able to avoid blushing if he was looking up at Zayn.

“Well the nurse said that if I _didn’t_ do this she would shove-“

“Not the icepack,” Niall groaned, wincing at the light laugh that escaped the older, “I meant all of this. Why’d you help me? We don’t even know each other.”

“I mean I’ve been on top of you I’d say I know-“

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall snapped, hoping he didn’t sound too whiny but now he was blushing again and could practically hear the smirk on the other’s face.

“I just, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have had to be the one that did it anyway because _someone_ should’ve saved you, but no one looked like they were jumping in any time soon so I took the initiative,” Zayn explained, and Niall could feel the shrug through the slight movement it caused the icepack. He wondered how the hell someone could be so nonchalant about all of this.

(And he was also groaning internally about the use of the word saved because he was imagining Zayn as some sort of super hero. It seemed, though, that the older boy did not want the title of a hero, but Niall continued imagining _Iron Man_ and _Hawkeye_ : the heroes who saved lives because they felt _obligated_.

And yes Niall was very aware that Zayn hadn’t _quite_ saved his life, just his face.)

“And besides, people like Liam sometimes need to remember that they aren’t the biggest baddest thing around.”

“Oh please,” Niall snorted, “and you are? Liam Payne, quarterback, has reason enough to be afraid of _you_?”

Zayn’s jaw tightened at that, and Niall was suddenly worried he’d asked a question that ran a little too deep. He didn’t have to worry about the question though because the nurse had just re-entered the room, but he did have to worry about the answer because Zayn was gone from his side the moment she reappeared. The nurse briefly thanked the older for the minimal care he’d aided with, and Zayn replied with nothing but a short smile and a quick nod. And Niall was biting back the _I didn’t mean anything by it_ as Zayn took a few more steps towards the door, mainly because the dark headed boy stopped in his tracks as he reached the frame.

“Hey Ni-“

The younger sat up onto his elbows to catch a better glimpse at the unsure look on Zayn’s face.

“We’ve all got our demons.”

And then he was gone.

“Before you leave I’m going to have to take your temperature, height, weight-“

Niall’s stomach squeezed at the thought of facing a scale, mentally listing everything he’d eaten in the last few days that was going to show. He tried to shove down the longing for Zayn to be back in the room, for the older to tell him that they were just numbers and it didn’t matter what he ate or how he looked. But no one was there to say anything, and he certainly hadn’t the strength to do it, so he bit back the burn at the back of his throat, promised himself he’d eat lightly for the next few days after the number he was sure would’ve been lower, and wondered vaguely exactly what demons Zayn kept tucked behind those fantastic eyes of his.

**********

A few days after the fight was always the worst part, or at least as far as Niall has always been concerned. The first day always seems a lot less painful than you’d expect it to be, like ‘oh I got punched in the face but I could definitely handle that again’. But then the bruises start to pop up, and by the third and fourth day you want to chop off your entire head because for one you look like you’re decomposing, and two even the slightest breathe of breeze across the affected area stung like a bitch. So by the fifth day, Niall was feeling pretty fed up in his shiner. Not only was he ready for the blackish-green bruising to fade away, he was also 110% done with people asking him if he got punched. This was not helped by the start of a new term on that day, and he found himself telling all the people asking about the laceration that he had actually played a very intense game of rock paper scissors.

Basically, he was done.

It was half way through the day when he stumbled into Chemistry, a class he was not looking forward to as it was typically full of sophomores and juniors. The college he’d decided to go to previously told him that the extra science lab was not required, but as of a month ago, they were changing their rules. Needless to say, Niall wasn’t happy, and he made sure to emanate a pissy vibe as he slid into an empty table in the back.

Niall put his head down onto the cool metal, only half listening to the scrape of chairs as the passing period went by at an achingly slow pace. The blonde could hear the thump of his head ache pumping along to the pad of feet across the tiled floor, and the voluminosity of it expanding due to whatever chemicals were laying along the back table. He winced at the sound of the bell, and only rested his chin against his folded forearms because he _decidedly did not want to be here._

“Pick up your things and come to my desk, we’ve got a seating arrangement,” the teacher chirped, smiling just a bit evilly at the consecutive groan. Niall rolled his eyes as he readjusted the straps of his backpack, falling into line to look at the retched piece of paper lying on top of the wooden desk. He was one of the first few to move, and the moment he collapsed into his assigned seat ( _in the front_ he thought begrudgingly), he went right back to ignoring everyone with his nose squished against the sterilized aluminum. He groaned quietly as the chair next to him squealed across the floor, mentally wishing away the other body. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would be one of the smart kids that wanted to do all of the work.

“Well hello again blondie.”

Niall was suddenly very aware because how could he not recognize that voice? It wasn’t physically possible, not with the sound of it huffing _we’ve all got our demons_ making constant appearances in his subconscious. And Zayn definitely chuckled a bit as Niall shot up in his seat, curious blue eyes locked to his as his jaw hung in a bit of disbelief.

“Get acquainted with your partner, you’re stuck with them until the end of the class,” the teacher announced, clearly enjoying the sudden outbreak protests. Niall didn’t have the mental capacity to protest, hell, he wasn’t sure he had the mental capacity to _breathe_ properly. He still hadn’t decided whether or not this was luck, or maybe a curse when Zayn began reaching towards him.

“Not polite to gape love,” Zayn teased, gripping Niall’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lightly closing it. The blonde tried to avoid fainting as the older ran his thumb along the slight stubble across the his jaw, and almost failed to succeed in staying upright as Zayn tossed a wink his direction. The immediate loss of contact afterwards almost had Niall questioning if he was dreaming this entire thing, but the sudden sweating of his palms and the dryness of his mouth at the cocky smirk quirking up the corners of Zayn’s lips was enough to assure him that this was real life.

Completely zoned out, Niall all but missed the explanation of the experiment they would be doing, and tuned back just in time to be passed a pair of safety goggles and the instructions of retrieving a tray from the back table. Zayn went after the tray, and Niall tried to regain his composure as he filed with the plastic glasses.

“Those aren’t going to be a problem for you are they?” Zayn asked, glancing at the goggles as he slid the tray of measured out chemicals onto the table. Niall tilted his head at the flimsy eye protection, sliding them onto his nose gingerly and only releasing a slight wince as they settled against the bruising. Niall grinned lightly, and as if this satisfied Zayn, the older slid into his seat once again.

They began the experiment not much later, hands brushing and elbows bumping every once again as they worked silently. The quiet chatter from other tables was soothing, or at least more soothing than the acrid scent of sulfuric acid kicking up into the air. Niall cursed his headache.

“That’s from Liam the other day, isn’t it?” Zayn questioned, lifting his eyebrows worriedly as he looked over the bruise on Niall’s right eye. The blonde nodded, cursing himself for not keeping the conversation going. “Good, just making sure there’s no one else I need to go after.”

Niall chuckled, glancing at Zayn out of the corner of his eye to find that the dark headed boy had his bottom lip twisted between his teeth. The blonde wondered a few things-about the cigarette tucked behind Zayn’s ear, about why Liam had backed off, about what the hell he’d been thinking about as he’d grazed his thumb along Niall’s face. But he looked away before he could be caught, his fingers fumbling with a pencil to write down one of the results from the first bit of the experiment.

“How long has he been doing that to you?” the older needled, and Niall was only a little shocked by the question because Zayn had just assumed this wasn’t a new occurrence.

“Towards the end of eighth grade is when it started,” Niall murmured, making sure his hands were busy as he spoke, “it started off as just a bit of shoving around, but it got worse.”

“God, and he’s never gotten in trouble?” Zayn spat, sounding more than a little disgusted. Niall shrugged.

“He’s had in school suspension a few times, but it became such a frequent problem that teachers stopped asking how I got the bruises, and I stopped offering up the information. They wouldn’t expel him because he’s the best player on the football _and_ soccer team, so I put up with it.”

Niall reached for the beaker of sulfuric acid, measuring out the correct amount into another beaker while he waited for Zayn to say something else. He was already in full on shrug-it-off mode, and was pretty sure he could be nonchalant about anything else Zayn threw his direction.

“God, I mean yeah he’s _such_ a fucktard, but I’m almost more upset with the teachers. There’s not much you can do about that I guess,” Zayn sighed, watching as Niall poured the chemical mix into the main container with the sugar, “so glad I broke up with him though.”

Okay maybe he wasn’t ready for _that_.

Niall quite literally stuttered out something inaudible, and somehow (accidentally he swears), ended up getting the rest of the mixture all over the pair of them. Zayn jumped out of his chair, sending the teachers attention in their direction. He did not appear happy.

“Was that the sulfuric acid?” he groaned, making his way towards them quickly. He gave a halfhearted glance at the empty beaker, giving them each a once over before walking back towards his desk. “The emergency shower is broken so you’ll have to go rinse in the locker room. Remove any of the clothes that have the substance on them, and stand under a steady stream of cold water for fifteen minutes. Oh, and I’d suggest running unless you’re keen on having very painful burns.”

He sounded strangely calm about the entire thing, but they didn’t need to be told twice. They quickly whipped off their goggles, and Niall was taking off after Zayn down the hall. The immediate panic took over the later shocks of the fact that they were getting some extremely strange looks from people inside classrooms and hallway stragglers as they tore across the school. Eventually, but not before the chemicals had started to react against their skin, they burst into the locker room, and Niall silently thanked got that it was empty. Zayn stripped to his underwear faster than the blonde could slip out of his shoes.

“So you _do_ have a tattoo,” Niall pointed out, fumbling with the zipper of his jeans as Zayn rolled his eyes.

“We do not have _time_ for you to be pointing out the obvious kid, my skin is starting to _burn_ and you’re not even half naked, _let’s go_.”

The glare the older was offering suggested that Niall shouldn’t be testing his luck, and so he hurried out of the rest of his clothes and followed Zayn into the shower. The dark headed boy flipped a couple of nobs until two shower heads were spouting out arctic temperature water, and Zayn was running his hand against the side of his head as he looked reluctantly at the stream.

“Jesus you even got it in my _hair_ ,” Zayn chuckled, forcing himself under the trickle and shuddering, “I’m going to fucking kill you is what I’m going to do.”

Niall blushed, trying to keep his eyes on the corroded tiles rather than the intricate way Zayn fit together as he too submerged himself in frigid water. Goosebumps immediately rose to his skin, and he was subconsciously covering his lower abdomen with his arms to keep warm-

Or at least that’s what he was going to tell Zayn if he asked.

The blonde kept trying to think of something to say as his fingers brushed lightly against the goose flesh on his arms-should he apologize? He thought that if someone had spilled acid all over him he’d be wanting some sort of explanation at least, but then he realized Zayn was _laughing_ under his breath about this entire predicament. Niall felt wholly conflicted.

“What are we even supposed to do once we’re finished in her? Our clothes still have acid all over them,” he ended up saying, trying to withhold a chuckle of his own as Zayn’s eyebrows furrowed together. They’d clearly both forgotten to think this far into the issue at the time of the accident, though it hadn’t exactly been the first thing on their minds with the idea of chemicals scarring their bodies as the much more current problem. Zayn grinned goofily, shaking his head as he tried to create heated friction against his skin by rubbing his hands up and down his biceps.

“Well, if you think about it, at least this will make one hell of a story,” Zayn pointed out, “I mean, how many people get to say they’ve had a lab accident at the same time that the emergency shower just _happened_ to be broken? I do really wish you weren’t such a klutz though, ruined my outfit for the day it did.”

Niall rolled his eyes, trying to pretend that his stomach didn’t leap into his chest as Zayn’s gaze lingered a little too long on the hollow of his throat. He turned further away from the older, squeezing his eyes shut so that he could run his head under the cold stream and tell himself that just because this entire predicament was due to the fact that he couldn’t mentally cope with the fact that _Zayn was gay_ didn’t mean a damn thing. It didn’t matter that his heart was thumping along to the beat of _dreaming about the things that we could be_ , all that mattered was that Zayn went for guys like Liam, and Niall never went for anybody because loneliness stung less than rejection- He’d learned that the hard way.

Niall eventually reopened his eyes to find the older assessing him, and he tried not to flinch as Zayn tilted his head, tried not to furrow his brows too roughly as the dark headed boy reached out to encase the circumference of his wrist with his fingers. He knew what Zayn was doing, he was beginning to notice just how _small_ the blonde was. Niall could see the worry in his eyes as he finally seemed to realize how slimly the blonde fit together. He was more skin and bones than anything, and while there was an almost acceptable amount of muscle making the younger less thin in places, there was also a terrifying lack of any fat _anywhere_ on his body. Niall immediately had to fight the urge to pull away, instead choosing to just standing in place, hoping that if he didn’t make any sudden movements Zayn would refrain from making comments about how he could count Niall’s ribs or pinpoint the exact location of the start and end of his hips.

“What would happen if I just didn’t ask about this?” Zayn questioned, placing a hand gingerly against the protruding line of Niall’s collar bones and fingering the skin their. The blonde bit the inside of his lip, feeling not the heat of embarrassment from the caress of Zayn’s finger tips, but instead the trickle of dread hot under his chest.

“You’d be just like everyone else, too busy not caring to notice,” Niall muttered, taking a wary step away from Zayn and forcing the older’s hand to fall away, “And that’s _okay_ because I’m not asking for attention. Like you said before, we’ve all got our demons.”

Zayn glowered at him, and maybe if Niall knew the older better (knew why Liam was so afraid of him), or maybe if the gentle mark of his fingerprint wasn’t still a lingering feeling against the blonde’s skin, he’d actually manage to be nervous about the harsh stare. But this was _Niall_ who’d learned much too long ago that being afraid got you nowhere, and _Zayn_ whose eyes had the opposite of a terrifying effect on the younger. The dark headed boy sighed, shook his head a little, and flexed his jaw.

“So, what made you spill that stuff anyway?” he asked, turning away from Niall as he subtly changed the subject. The blonde knew that the previous conversation was far from over, but for now, if just for a moment or two, Niall was allowed to be at ease-

(And he loved the older deeply for all of this he _swore_.)

“Honestly? You just didn’t strike me as the type of guy-“

“If you’re about to say I’m not your typical gay I will actually take this moment to ring your throat,” Zayn spat in what the younger hoped was a teasing manner, afterwards flipping off the water before shaking out his hair. Niall fought back a grin.

“I was going to say the type of guy to be caught in _Liam’s_ crowd, but I guess you could say that too.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, gesturing for Niall to follow as he padded across the concrete floor of the locker room and decidedly ignored the blatant lie. He went to work jimmying open the locks of two separate lockers, proceeding to fish out towels and toss one at the blonde. Niall shot him a concerned look pertaining to the possibly stolen articles, and Zayn was quickly explained that he knew the owners of the belongings.

“We’ll just borrow their gym clothes and they’ll have to deal with it,” Zayn shrugged, laughing quietly at the unsure movements from the other. The two of them dried off in silence, and Niall did his best to ignore the obvious pull of Zayn’s back muscles and the way his chest tattoo fluttered with the raise of his arms.

Finally, dressed in a t-shirt with the name of a band he didn’t recognize and a pair of basketball shorts he had to roll over three times at the waist just to get them to stay up, Niall sat himself against the edge of the sink countertops. He leant his back against the mirror as he watched Zayn give a futile effort to styling his towel dried hair.

“Suppose I should give you my number now that I’ve fallen on top of you, saved your life, and seen you half naked,” Zayn exclaimed, glancing at Niall through the mirror as if looking for a reaction, “I’d ask for _yours_ , but I wouldn’t want to make it seem like I was coming onto you.”

Niall just nodded and tried not to blush.

Zayn was halfway around the corner to fetch a pen he claimed was in the back pocket of his jeans when the door to the locker room swung open, in walking Harry whistling some sort of cryptic tune. He stopped abruptly on the path to his locker once he noticed Niall seated atop the counters, giving his friend the once over and appearing very confused at the sight of his mismatched, ill fitting wardrobe.

“What are you-“

“Good news blondie I found the pen,” Zayn shouted, jogging back into the bathroom area only to pause at the sight of the gaping green eyed boy, “well hello curly. As I was saying Ni, found the pen, hand okay for my number?”

Niall nodded quickly, fighting down a rather loud chuckle as Zayn uncapped the writing utensil with his teeth and Harry’s jaw practically fell to the floor. The dark headed boy held Niall’s hand loosely in his, scribbling the highly important ten digits across the blonde’s palm. All the while the brunette was mouthing ‘what the hell’ behind his back, and Niall was gesturing for him to shut it while still stifling his laughter. Zayn at least pretended not to notice if he had.

“Back to chemistry then?” Zayn asked, already heading towards the door with Niall in tow. The older turned his back on the blonde opened to venture out of the space, and Niall opened his mouth to respond as he followed closely behind, but Harry caught him by the bicep and pressed their faces with noses inches apart. He meant business.

“I am so coming over to your’s after school and you are catching me up on all of _this_ ,” he hissed, gesturing towards the door before giving Niall a shove. The blonde rolled his eyes just slightly, giving a fond shake of his head as he bounded out the door. His heart only half stuttered once he caught sight of Zayn leaning against the wall (waiting for him which turned the half flutter into a whole wing beat), and he only half sighed at the flicker of the older’s thick eyelashes.

“You coming?” he hummed, as if Niall had anywhere better to be. The younger nodded (he’d started wondering if that was all he could do around Zayn), and his adrenaline pulsed at the grin that tilted the older’s lips. The palm of his hand tingled with the weight of possibility, and by the time they’d made it back to the room, Niall had the digits committed to memory-

And Zayn, as per usual, had pretended not to notice.

**********

Niall waited a few days before texting Zayn, a stupid sentiment that he only followed through with because Harry insisted it was the beginning to every cheesy romance story, and Zayn whined to him about it every day in class. Maybe Niall enjoyed teasing the older just a little, saying things like the ink had washed off before he could read it or the possibility that he just wasn’t interested in conversation. This, of course, was always remedied by Zayn claiming all of it as nonsense and rewriting the number onto whatever part of Niall he could manage. And so by the third day when the digits were penned against the side of his cheek, the younger had decided maybe he should give in to the childish pastime of messaging Zayn.

But that was a month or so ago, and he found himself spending unreasonable amounts of everyday typing away on his phone. It was easy talking to Zayn, and when they weren’t able to talk on the phone or see each other face to face, it was texting that filled the time. It felt nice telling the dark headed boy little snippets about his life and learning more about the secrets interwoven with the older. They talked about everything from tattoos to their heritage, and _no_ Niall was _not_ keeping a list of things they had in common-

At least not a physical one that anybody could find.

He underwent relentless teasing from Harry about the chemistry incident for weeks, and a fair amount of teasing about Zayn in general. But anytime the brunette started getting a little too intense with his banterings, Louis was there reminding him to take a look at his own relationship and remember just how whipped he’d become in a very short amount of time.

(And Niall was reminded how much he _loved_ Louis, always had he thought. Even when the little bugger borrowed his best friend more than the blonde liked from time to time.)

Occasionally Niall tried to ween himself off of needing to talk to Zayn, because it was definitely becoming a necessity as the days went by. He was pretty sure the older did the same from time to time, and as much as Niall wanted to let that sting, how could he when he was guilty of the same crime? It wasn’t that he didn’t like Zayn, because he _really_ liked Zayn, more than he was willing to admit actually (which really was the problem in itself). It was just that, well, the idea of rejection still bared its fangs in Niall’s face, and he wasn’t entirely ready to get bitten-

But sometimes he questioned if it would be worth the risk.

It was those moments-like right then for instance, with time perched at the back end of February willingly welcoming March with open arms-that Niall spaced out his replies to Zayn. They went from being every few minutes to a couple times an hour, until eventually, around six o’clock, they’d all but stopped speaking. It was for this reason that Niall had decidedly _not_ told Zayn that he was going to the basketball game that evening, because that would’ve turned into Niall asking Zayn if he wanted to come and you know-

That damn rejection thing.

The blonde pulled into the back parking lot of the school half past seven, making sure to lock his car as he trotted towards the door. His footsteps rang hollowly down the hallway, his hands shoved into the depths of his pockets. He was so busy willing his phone to buzz (because he hated being the one to crack and text Zayn first) that he hadn’t noticed that lack of noise until he was a few steps away from the gym. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, well, besides him and the janitor sweeping the floor. Confused, and debating if he was actually going to have to interrupt the custodian’s jam session to ask where everyone was, Niall caught the lightest hint of noise in the background of nothing: a squeak of shoes against the gym floor, the echoing ring of a basketball missing its mark, and whoever had screwed up the throw chasing the ball across the room. Niall rounded the corner cautiously, only half surprised when faced with the sight of Zayn dribbling a ball between his legs. The blonde leaned up against the frame of the door, watching as the older jumped up for a shot, missing yet again and turning to catch Niall staring. He half smiled, looking at his shoes as if he had something to be embarrassed about-

(Maybe he did, but Niall had never been good at any sport besides soccer. When it came to hand eye coordination, the blonde was out, but put a ball at his feet, and he would beat everyone around.)

“Hey,” Zayn called, jogging towards the blonde to stop short a reasonable amount of distance away, “here for the game?”

“Yeah, where is everyone?”

“Game got canceled,” Zayn laughed, tossing Niall the ball, “guess we were the only two that didn’t get the memo.”

The younger managed (must’ve been fate) to catch the ball. He spun it around in his hands, grinning stupidly at it and wondering distantly just how the fact that it was _just them_ had happened (maybe it was fate _again_ ). He tossed the ball back in Zayn’s direction, breaking the thoughts of _meant to be_ and _happenstance_ as he watched the dark headed boy finger the shape of the divots. He dropped his eyes to the scuffed up likes of his converse, dragging his heel against the floor as they waited in an awkward silence. He could feel Zayn staring at the planes of his face, and he was all but afraid to look up when the dark headed boy cleared his throat.

“We could, um, we could like, I mean only if you want to-“

“Zayn,” Niall breathed as if somehow understanding the older boys nervousness, “it’s just me.”

His eyes flashed something that screamed _that’s the problem_.

“Well we could like,” Zayn sighed, groaning quietly as he looked towards the ceiling, “can I buy you an ice cream?”

And Niall almost laughed because the older was making _such_ a big deal out of this, but he nodded and kept the fond grin to a minimally amused smirk at Zayn’s relief. As he was walking after the dark headed boy out the door though, he was trying to think of a way to politely refuse a frozen treat once they arrived, for ice cream was nothing but straight sugar and too many calories. He couldn’t come up with one that wouldn’t cause Zayn into asking a whirlwind of questions, and up until then they’d steered clear of the issue, so Niall decided it best just to suck it up and indulge for once-

He would just skip lunch tomorrow.

The cherry red convertible sitting in the lot looked to be older than both of them, and Niall couldn’t help but wonder how someone like Zayn came to end up driving a 1980s BMW. Not that the blonde was complaining, it was a classic car, and even though the paint was chipping and the leather was cracking, he could tell it had been more than loved. Plus, it was a warm night, the top was down, and the moment the engine roared to life the speakers were blasting a personalized mix of Zayn’s favorite Britney Spears songs.

“This car is-“

“My baby don’t you dare insult her,” Zayn quipped, shooting Niall a look as he soared out of the parking lot. The younger watched in fascination as the dark headed boy shifted gears seamlessly, picking up speed down the deserted town street.

“Fantastic is what I was going for,” Niall needled, settling back against the upholstery as Zayn launched into a tale of buying the vehicle. The blonde laughed along with him as he spun a tale of a more than shady car dealer trying to sell his family the piece of crap convertible for double what it was worth, all the while Niall sat inhaling the mixed scent of cigarette smoke and Zayn’s cologne-

(Which he’d figure out was in fact _very_ expensive, as he’d caught the scent off a salesman at the mall only to find out that it was Gucci)

And Zayn’s voice was the opposite of staccato, all of his syllables running into each other to create one big puddle of words that had Niall slipping into a state of pure relaxation bliss. He had half a mind to tell the older to keep talking once he’d stopped, but he didn’t want to come off as weird, and he didn’t want to forget the last of the sound, so he just hummed in understanding and closed his eyes to commit the vibrato of Zayn’s voice to memory.

It wasn’t long before the pair of them were pulling up to the drive through of the nearby ice cream parlor, and Zayn was ordering for the both of them because apparently he remembered Niall’s favorite ice cream from one of their conversations-

(Niall would’ve thought that was strange if he hadn’t of also remembered Zayn’s, but he was still more than shocked when the dark headed boy was ordering the vanilla cone with extra crunch sprinkled across it.)

Niall barely even thought twice about greedily licking the side of the swirl, moaning quietly at the burst of flavor he’d been deprived of for months. He wasn’t quick enough to prevent Zayn from paying, nor was he quick enough to offer a thank you (though the second one was more in his own opinion), but judging by the smirk curling Zayn’s lips, the dark headed boy was more than pleased with his actions.

“Do you mind if I park somewhere so I can eat this without trying to drive at the same time?” Zayn asked, sitting at the end of the drive-thru and waiting for Niall’s call. The blonde mustered up a ‘sure’ because he was _so done_ with just nodding in agreement, and for some reason his heart decided to beat erratically as Zayn took off. Maybe it was the suddenly high dosage of sugar, he definitely wasn’t use to that-

Or maybe it was the child like giggle that escaped Zayn’s mouth as he pulled out of the lot a little too quickly and threw Niall against the seat.

Zayn eventually pulled into a nearly secluded spot, parking his car at the end of the elementary schools playground. He proceeded to unbuckle his seatbelt and pull one of his legs up underneath him, arranging enough to make himself more comfortable before he was tidying his ice cream with his tongue. Niall forced himself to look away from this, though he could already feel the heat of blush that always seemed to be lurking under the surface whenever Zayn was around creeping to his cheeks.

“So,” Zayn mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate ice cream, “you’re actually eating.”

Niall froze mid lick, eyebrows furrowing immediately to glare at Zayn. He wasn’t sure if he was offended by the question, or more taken aback. Either way, Zayn looked far more innocent than someone who was about to make some rather large accusations.

“I do eat,” Niall grumbled, picking the paper off of his cone to give himself something to do other than continue noticing the knowing look on Zayn’s face.

“Barely,” he observed, “you _barely_ eat. You’re only doing it now because you didn’t want me asking any questions and you thought I’d forgotten about that day in the shower, right?”

Niall didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like the accusing tone of Zayn’s voice or the way the older was gaping at him with wide eyes as if in wait. He seemed a little too ready for this conversation.

“Lets say, _hypothetically_ , I don’t eat,” Niall tried, “What does it matter to you anyway?”

Zayn licked at his cone thoughtfully, readjusting himself so that he was facing Niall more than he had previously been, and staring intently at him as he contemplated the question. The younger felt like he was being monitored, no, he felt like he was being picked apart. But not in a way that resembled vultures and roadkill, but more in a way that involved careful observation and good judgment of just how much he could handle.

“Because if you have a problem, which you do, lets say I’m the only one who has noticed, _hypothetically_ ,” Zayn started, tossing the paper from his cone into one of the cupholders and letting his hands settle against his knee-

“Maybe I’m the only one who’s cared to see how tiny you are. And yeah, maybe I figured out somewhere along the way that you’re probably naturally on the skinny side, but it’s completely not natural for your bones to be protruding in the ways that they are-“

He paused to lick the sticky sugar from his lips, and Niall inhaled deeply and braced himself against Zayn’s pink tongue and all of niceties and harsh words.

“And maybe I also figured out that you’re naturally a little pale, but it’s not natural at all for your skin to be void of elasticity from lack of nutrients. I noticed the dullness in your eyes and how brittle your hair was because my _sister_ had the same problem-“

He let that one sit, and Niall realized there was a pattern. Zayn wanted this to _sink in_. It was working of course, the older had a strange effect on him like that.

“In the end, if I’m the only one that knows about you and something happens, then I’m going to know I could’ve done something about it. So it matters to me because I have to keep you out of the hospital with an IV in your arm with nothing but a concoction of medication keeping you alive,” Zayn snapped, “ _hypothetically_ of course.”

Niall had finished the ice cream as if to prove a point, crushing the paper in the middle of a weak fist as it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Zayn looked like he hurt far worse though, like if Niall said anything out of line _he_ was going to be the one that broke down in tears. It felt only slightly terrifying to know that the older already cared about him enough to be facing this, because even with Harry, and even with Luke and Greg, they’d all learned to just not ask too many questions because it never got out of hand. Niall never _fully_ stopped eating, so it was never _fully_ a problem. It only received a bared grin whenever someone hugged his waist or a warning flash of eyes when he turned down a meal that kept him from feeling uncared for, but now there he was, wondering what to do with himself in the presence of someone who was brave enough to tell him he had a problem.

Because Niall knew, of course he knew, he was just afraid and unsure of how to escape it on his own.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he breathed, wincing at the pathetically quiet sound of his own voice. And Zayn relaxed, leaned his head against the seat for a moment or two, swallowing the heavy bitterness settled against his tongue that he was seconds from unleashing. The older had to remind himself that Niall hadn’t done anything to deserve all the pent up anger he’d held from his sister, all the things he’d wanted to say since she’d come home from two weeks in the psych ward. He realized, as he dragged his gaze up the outline of the blonde’s frame through squinted eyes, that Niall was nothing but a withering daisy too busy being trampled to notice its own beauty. It was for this reason that Zayn didn’t stop himself from reaching forward and brushing a piece of hair from the younger’s forehead, or think twice about the lingering press of his fingers against the blondes face. He relished in the quiet gasp that fell from Niall’s lips, closing his eyes and sighing in harmony with the brief intake of air-

Zayn wished for the confidence to scoot closer to the blonde.

“You’re really something amazing, you know that?” Zayn hummed, his eyelids fluttering lazily as they settled more comfortably into the quiet and the _aloneness_ they were surrounded by. He couldn’t quite see Niall’s timid shake of the head so much as he knew it was there, funny how that worked, you know someone for a month and it’s possible to already know the answers they’ll give-

Or maybe Zayn was just a good guesser.

Niall studied the shadows falling over the older’s face instead of bothering with an answer, licking at his lips shyly as his blood pumped hotly through his veins. There was something about the way Zayn was making everything seem sluggish-

(And by sluggish Niall definitely meant _slow_ and _sensual_ and impossibly _painful_ , every shift of his muscles and dip of his Adam’s apple sending the blonde closer to the brink of insanity-

Niall quietly wondered when he’d started fantasizing about Zayn’s lips every few seconds.)

And the _other_ fact that they were so obviously away from all other people that left Niall’s adrenaline revving its engine. He was antsy, and hot all over, and a few moments away from getting out of the car to walk back to the school in fear of doing something he’d regret. But he’d begrudgingly stayed, shoved one of his legs underneath the other to match Zayn’s position, and folded his hands into his lap awkwardly from cause of not knowing what to do with himself.

“Remember that day, like, two months ago when you fell on me skateboarding? In the courtyard?” Niall asked, forcing down the nervous waver of his voice to save for later. Zayn grinned lightly, nodding into the leather and opening one eye to peer at the blonde-

Niall swallowed his fear, reminding himself that being afraid got you nowhere.

“I used to sit there, during the fall and stuff, just to watch you come by there every day. My mate Harry used to make fun of me for it.”

“I used to skate by there just to see _you_ ,” Zayn murmured, pressing his face further into the seat to try hiding the blush dusting his cheeks. Niall tilted his head to the side, muffling his breathy laugh into his shoulder and smothering the grin that threatened to split his face. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. He dropped his gaze to the middle console the moment Zayn’s curious eyes flashed open, and the finger that had began drawing mindless patterns into the leather was nearly squished by a pair of elbows leaning onto it. The younger was afraid to look up and see just how much closer they’d become.

“You’re not naturally blonde are you?”

And Niall laughed because it was such a _stupid_ question, and such an _obvious_ excuse for Zayn to run his fingers against his scalp. He didn’t care, he mustered up a confident ‘nope’ and hoped he didn’t sound too smug. He studied the lines of Zayn’s face as the older reviewed his considerably darker roots, petting his hair this way and that as if contemplating its very existence. Niall somehow managed to not flinch as Zayn’s hand fell to the back of his neck, their eyes locking together afterwards.

He kept telling himself to look at just Zayn’s eyes.

“I think you’d look nice with brown hair, though I’d miss calling you blondie too much,” he taunted, biting the inside of his lip as his thumb brushed the bristly hairs of the younger’s neck.

“Maybe I’ll grow it out sometime, just for you-“

And Niall made the mistake of glancing at Zayn’s lips-

(Zayn’s perfect, teasing, wetted lips.)

“Just for me you say,” the dark headed boy breathed, and Niall swore he felt a tug on the back of his neck, “can I make a trade in?”

Niall was so far gone at that point that he was nodding at whatever came out of Zayn’s mouth, even if he knew where this was going and the euphoric buzzing in the center of his chest was replaced for a moment by a lick of dread.

“Keep dying your hair, because blondie suits you too well, and instead I’ll make a deal with you. If you allow me to help you see how much _more_ amazing you could be while eating healthily and filling back out to a safe weight, I’ll stop pretending like I don’t want to kiss you right now and we can see what happens after that.”

Niall practically keened, and nearly had to steady himself to keep from swaying.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he joked, trying to ignore Zayn’s tongue flicking out against his lips while wondering if letting someone who obviously cares help you out of your own grave was really such a bad idea, “what if you fail though, to help me I mean? You’re not the first one who’s tried.”

“I think I’d like to take my chances almost as much as I’d like to shut you up, do we have a deal or not?”

And Niall grinned stupidly and _nodded_ because he swore that’s all he knew how to do around Zayn. The older leaned forward just slightly, enough that Niall could feel his breath against his lips and close enough that Niall was concerned he could hear the blonde’s heart beat. But Zayn grinned too, breathing out a laugh as the hand on the back of Niall’s neck allowed nimble fingers to wind their way through dark roots. And because Niall was 95% sure Zayn wouldn’t move any further on his own (because Zayn was stupid and was always trying to push the younger past his limits), he leaned the fraction of an inch further. Zayn’s lips were soft and warm and tasted slightly sugary with the faintest hint of what he assumed was nicotine, and he would’ve reminded himself to ask the older about smoking later if his head wasn’t spinning with the smell of Zayn’s cologne and _wanting more_. It was over all too soon, but then Zayn was giving him this look mixed with some sort of understanding-

(A look that held too many accusations like _I know you’ve played this game before_ and _I can see you want this as much as I do_ )

And he’d never really be sure how it happened, but their lips fumbled back together and Zayn’s tongue was probing his open while drawling a sigh and a gasp and any second thought’s about straddling the older boy’s hips out of Niall. That’s where they continued, chest to chest with Zayn’s hands running up the back of the blonde’s shirt, nudging the bumps of his spine as if to hold him in place. The dark headed boy’s fingertips gathered in the hollows of Niall’s ribs, somehow showing the younger in between pauses of eager breaths just how it would feel to have them filled. He wondered (as Zayn’s lips pressed promising kisses down the curve of his neck and against his collar bones) what the older saw in him: perhaps just another charity case, a challenge. But then he could feel the quirk of a grin against the hollow of his throat, the squeeze of the dark headed boys hands against his waist, and he could almost, almost, picture this working out in everyone’s favor. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of kicking his habit, of going back to eating like it was normal and filling out the places Zayn’s touch lingered. But somehow, through the doubt and the buzzing haze at the back of his mind due to the taunt of the older’s stubble scratching at is cheek, he could tell Zayn wasn’t going to bow out on his end of the deal anytime soon-

(Especially not when there was a whispered _you really are beautiful_ against his lips, and a dabble of fingers across his stomach to concrete the statement. Niall almost believed him, almost-

But Zayn made it seem like, maybe, it would eventually turn out believable.)


End file.
